


stabat mater-hey, do you recall when the war was just a game?

by Taloned_Hawk



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Immortal Fake AH Crew, M/M, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taloned_Hawk/pseuds/Taloned_Hawk
Summary: the result of a failed kidnapping, the whispers of demons from the past, and the fear that kept everyone talking.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello! this is what I think what happened after Jeremy's heist. call backs to Ray's heist. 
> 
> I love comments and critiques! thank you for reading!

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks of the barge was a sound that one would not often wake up to. However, it was not an unwelcome sound. Perhaps he was in his safehouse near the northern shores? That would mean that all of the hell that he went through was just a dream. Yes, a dream. The sounds of nature almost rocked him back to sleep, until a rough kick to the ribs sent a blinding flash of pain go through his body and caused a groan to trickle out of his parted lips.

Definitely not a dream, then. 

“Michael, save that for later!” A voice chastised as he was roughly dragged up and tied to a chair. With the flexing of his wrists, he realized that it was probably zip-ties. Not too hard to get out of, as long as he had time to- the punch to his face jostled the remnants of sleep, and he felt his eyes flutter open. Through blurred eyes he saw the man known as Michael stalk away, and he blinked rapidly to regain focus. As he regained focus, he remembered Hell. Kerry Shawcross, the rat, taken by the Fake AH Crew for revenge. There was a crash as well, he remembered that as clear as day. A horrendous shout from the members of the crew as flames engulfed the cargobob. 

“How did we survive?” The words left him, groggy and almost illegible. Tilting his head back, he looked for a response. He didn’t expect it from a man he did not know. 

“You didn’t do your research, did you?” The voice came from the right, and Kerry turned his head in confusion to see the man talking. A bruise blossomed on his forehead, stretching from his ear to just over his eyebrow. His arms were crossed over his short stature, the small smirk on his face barely concealing the rage that made his arms twitch.

“Why the flashy uniform?” He couldn’t help but ask, and God was it flashy. Bright eyes peered out at him from underneath the cowboy hat on his head, his hair peeking out as a bright blue. A purple dress jacket and orange ensemble didn’t seem too smart for a criminal, and the kid’s short stature made him look nothing like the fierceness you’d expect from one of the leading crime organizations. 

“Does it matter? It will be one of the last you’ll ever fucking see.” The man had suddenly turned more violent, his answer coming out in a snarl. Kerry shied beck from the man, and he had to look away when he glared down at him with nothing but rage in his eyes. He was so focused on the man glaring him down, that he didn’t notice when someone else entered the scene. 

“I get first shot.” As ferocious as always, Michael materialized next to the new recruit. It seemed as if his wounds hadn’t been tended to yet. Blood dribbled from his nose, and he was still wet from where they had crashed into the ocean.   “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, Jeremy.”

Michael, once his friend, didn’t say much after that. He stood next to this “Jeremy”, his rage evident in his posture and how his jaw seemed to twitch. He felt as if he could catch on fire from his gaze, so he looked around the room for something more comforting. The sight wasn’t one for sore eyes.

In front of the large mirror on the wall was the man who was a terror on his own right, but in a group of other trained murderers? A barely-controlled hellscape. The Vagabond’s mask was off laying on the table next to him. The mask, unfortunately, was burnt and broken in two, but the wearer was much worse. The part of his face Kerry could see was still covered in facepaint, angry burns dancing across his face. It missed his eye and forehead, but his left eyebrow was singed off. The angry wound was also wrapped around his neck.

Even with all the resolve in the world, even Ryan could not help but wince as he dabbed the wounds with a damp cloth. All of his facepaint needed to be removed before his burns could be treated, apparently. The clothing he wore for the abduction was burnt and almost unrecognizable, all except the remnants of a trench coat that sat on the back of a chair.   

A quick hiss caught the attention of Kerry, and he looked towards the source of the noise. Jack, the medic, pulled a shard of metal from the shoulder of one Gavin Free. It looked to be part of the cargobob’s handle. A quick bandage and stitching job was done, and Gavin was given a pat on the back, the lad standing to slide a shirt back on. He was covered in burn wounds, but it looked as if they had already healed. . . That was impossible. There was no way that any human could heal that fast. 

“How did we survive?” He tried asking again, earning a growl from Michael.

“Shut the fuck up.” Kerry didn’t talk anymore after that, but he did gasp in awe when he saw Jack’s bruises on his arms heal in front of his own eyes. He would have said something, but the look Michael shot him made the words die before thought upon.

At last, the boss of the crew appeared in the doorway, a deep set frown on his face. He then stood in front of Kerry, the small glass of liquor in his hand swaying a bit with his shaking hand. Geoff had never been as clear as a shot as the others, Kerry noted, hence why he was never put up to sniping jobs. The flat cap and the scarf seemed much more ironic now, as the owner of the yacht dropped a load of files in front of him.

“We know what you’ve done, so don’t try denying. You will die here, so don’t get your hopes up. The question is, why?” All eyes were trained on him now. With a gulp and a shaking voice, Kerry’s response was something he instantly regretted:

“Run. . .Running with the good guys was a lot more fun than with the bad.” 

At that moment, it was a complete breakdown. Not from Geoff, not from Kerry, but from the twitching and seething man to the side of him. With a loud shout and the shove of the table, two fists were grabbing at his collar and lifting him and the chair off the ground. 

“You killed Ray, you fuck!” The man’s face was only a few inches from his own, spitting and shouting as loud as ever. “You fucking tipped the dogs off to our location, and killed us all until it was only Ray left. It was his heist, you shithead! He didn’t want his creation to be his last!” He threw Kerry and the chair to the ground, the simple plastic chair tipping backwards and crashing to the floor. 

“The cops were all fucking there, in an undisclosed location. I wonder how they knew? Oh yes, the rat! You Peter Pettigrew fuck! Did you know that afterwards we were going to all play Resident Evil and drink fucking soda until three in the morning? You know what we did instead?” Kerry didn’t have to look up to see that Michael’s resolve was cracking. “We burned our white suits that Ray had picked out for us in a bonfire on top of the Vinewood Bank. Blood doesn’t come out of white clothing, asshole. Not with all of the fucking tide pens in the world.”

It was quiet for a few moments, breaking only when Michael sniffled. Kerry would have looked up, but the fierce kick to the stomach definitely made noise in the room. He let out a fierce cry when the bruises were knocked, the onslaught didn’t stop. Blows came to his head and torso, and when the lull was over he thought that would be it. A simple bullet to the head and then the torture would cease. A dire wish.

Being dragged by the back of a chair and shoved into the cool night air, Kerry then started to think on where he fucked up. However, that thinking was cut short when the zipties were cut. He continued to sit.

“Come on, get up.” Geoff was holding a fuchsia pistol, gesturing with it for his hostage to stand. Kerry did as he was told, shakily standing before the two shots rang out. Pain shot up his legs and up his throat as he get out a loud scream. The pain was white hot, and he crumpled onto his knees only to bring out more pain. Surging from inside him, he let out another caterwaul. Geoff had shot his knees out. The pistol was all too familiar. Ray’s pistol. 

“Would you shut up already?” The complaint came from, surprisingly, Gavin. He was not the biggest fan of blood, let alone the torture of someone else. Kerry prepared for Gavin to do something- to blow him up, to shoot him, something to get his anger out. Something in his expression must’ve told Gavin this, for the Golden Boy cocked one of his perfectly manicured eyebrows. “Are you expecting’ me to do something? I already did.” Shock. What did he do? Poison him while he was out? Numb him and tear something off?

“Did you really expect me, the second best pilot in this crew, to hover over the end goal for five minutes? Do you think I’m that daft?” His eyes widened. It was on purpose?

“How are we not dead? How am I not dead?!” He started to panic, his heart racing faster. 

“You really didn’t do your research, did you?” The man from earlier, the asshole who wears his sunglasses at night, otherwise known as Jeremy, sneered. “We are immortal, dumbass.”

Immortal. 

The horror that he felt was only multiplied when the Vagabond stalked up to him, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him up. He carried him to the bow of the ship, hanging him over the edge. 

“Ryan, please. Don’t do this.” he was thinking quickly now. He couldn’t die like this-

“It was a loss from the start, Kerry. The only reason Ray was the sniper was because he wasn’t afraid to die. Us in the Fake AH Crew? We are built with qualities of Gods. But Ray? He came to the top with skill and the grace of the God we all wished to be. You lost, Kerry. You lost a game that you could never play.” 

“Would Ray want this? Think about Ray.”

“I do all the time.”

With that, the butterfly knife that was given to Ray by a certain masked crusader was slit across his neck and the body of Kerry was thrown in the ocean as shark food. 

As they sped away into the night with a flaming yacht behind them, Ryan couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something. Was it guilt? Unlikely. Was it sorrow? Perhaps not. He didn’t know why the tears decided to flow, but he let them.


End file.
